When the Nissan Leaf Dries Up

PM just finished its long-term test of the Nissan Leaf, which included one memorable episode: getting stranded with a near-empty battery on the way to work. It was a very real reminder that EV range limits are not to be taken lightly, especially in a world that's far from having EV charging stations along every highway.

I leave the parking garage in Manhattan under cover of darkness, with 50 miles of juice in the Nissan Leaf's batteries. When I arrive home, 25 miles due north, the dash readout says I have 28 miles of power remaining. I read the manual—as clear as any owner's manual, murky at best—and plug in the charging unit via heavy-duty orange extension cord. I live in an old house—a converted 18th-century horse barn, to be precise—and electric outlets are few, far between and tough to reach. I have more extension cords than Home Depot.

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I hear the beep when I insert the business end of the charger into the Leaf's electric socket, see the "Charge" indicator light up on the black box and head inside to watch some quality TV. All the while I envision the Leaf receiving its electrical succor, charging up for my morning commute.

Come daylight, freshly shaven and suited up for work, I unhook the cord and power up for my drive to the office. Miles remaining: 28. The charge hasn't worked, and as I find out later, the extension cord is probably the culprit: The Leaf requires a direct connection to at least a 110-volt outlet in order to charge properly. Still, I think I can make it.

Fifteen minutes later, I'm cruising at 50 mph on the Palisades Parkway when the mileage indicator dips to nine. A minute after that, three flashing hyphens replace the numeral. The dashboard displays warnings that tell me, in six different ways, "Danger, Will Robinson, you are about to power down." The nav screen automatically lists the nearest charging stations—a nice gesture, but no station is close enough for me to reach it.

I exit the parkway and glide into a Lukoil station, where I ask the stubbly-faced, tattooed, ponytailed, muscle-bound manager if I can plug in. I know a full charge will take at least 12 hours. That would make me late enough for work to, well, miss the entire day. But I think if I hook up for an hour or so, I might get enough power to make it to the office.

The manager looks at me like an inmate might look at a prison guard, with a mixture of disgust and a pinch of bad attitude—just a pinch. I picture a '69 Chevelle SS in his driveway at home, and possibly also a fat Harley in the garage. He's looking at me, a freshly shaven guy in a suit and tie driving a white electric car. "How am I supposed to know how much to charge you?" he asks. "What would you charge a guy who needed to plug in his cellphone for an hour?" I answer. Clever, right? Not to the manager, apparently. "Okay, plug in there, by the soda vending machine, and we'll figure out later how much you owe me," he says, adding, "This is a gas station; we charge for fuel." "Whatever you decide is fine with me," I say, cocking my head and holding up my hands, universal gestural language for "Easy, fella."

Just then comes a flash of inspiration: There's a Nissan dealership down the road about a mile. I call and get a technician, Brian, on the phone. "C'mon down," he tells me. "We don't have a Leaf charging station—haven't even had an order for one of the cars yet—but we do have hot coffee in the customers' lounge and a place where we can hook up the car for a charge."

I pull into a service bay at East Coast Nissan, in Englewood Cliffs, N.J. The pneumatic drills fall silent, and work on the floor halts. The mechanics swarm around the Leaf. "How does it drive?" "Is it fast?" "How far can you go on a charge?" "How does it handle?" The questions are coming at me fast, and I have no authoritative answers, being a Leaf newbie who's driving a PM test car. "Seems like a great car," I say. "Fun to drive. Steady on the road. Quiet as the wind. But not much good to me at the moment, right?"

It was an honest mistake. Stupid mistake. The Leaf's charging system is simple enough that I shouldn't have screwed up the previous night. But still, the "charge" light on the transformer was lit, so I don't feel as if it's my fault that I didn't know the car wasn't getting any voltage.

Note to self: Learn to charge the Leaf properly. You are driving an EV. This is a paradigm shift; you can't just gas up. You have to be more thoughtful, follow the instructions, plan ahead, know your (and the car's) limitations. Otherwise, you'll end up lost in space—or stranded in New Jersey.

After two hours' charging, the Leaf indicates 16 miles of range. I back out of the bay, bid adieu to Brian and the boys, downshift into ECO mode and head into New York City. As I exit the West Side Highway onto 56th Street, so close to PM's home base, the readout again drops to 9 miles and then the dreaded three dashes. I'm convinced the car will conk out just two blocks from my destination. But no! Victory! I make it with just enough juice to spare and plug into the Level 2 charging station in the building's loading dock. The Leaf is safe, and I've been schooled. This EV thing will take some getting used to.